Seeing is Believing (Cuttersville #3)(58)
Author: Erin McCarthy

Piper didn’t imagine there was much need for full-time marketing employees in Cuttersville. Except maybe at the plastics plant. “You could talk to Boston.”

He looked less than enthused at the prospect. “I’m not sure I want to dive right back into a corporate job, but I have to do something.” Drumming his fingers on the table, he didn’t look particularly upset or irritated. In fact, he looked very relaxed. Happy.

It made Piper felt squishy inside. “My mom has that cousin in New York who owns an art gallery. Maybe we could talk to him, send in some of your work.”

She wanted him to be successful and she wanted him to stay. The minute the words were out of her mouth, she wondered if her suggestion was at cross-purposes with her desire to keep him in town, but it was too late to withdraw the suggestion.

“Sure,” he said. “That would be cool.”

Brady didn’t think for one minute that anyone in New York would give two shits about his work, but it was sweet of Piper to offer. The only reason he was really agreeing was so they could close that subject and move on. It was easier to say yes than explain why it would be pointless. He didn’t want to waste time debating his talent, or lack thereof. “Isn’t there usually a fall festival? They still do that here?”

“Yes. It’s this weekend.”

“Will you be my date?” he asked, feeling ridiculously pleased with his life. No job, no money, but he was happy. Insane, that’s what it was. “I want to kiss you on the hay ride.”

She nodded her yes, but before she could answer, two women came up and spoke to her, asking about their students and how they were adjusting to Piper’s class. Then a few minutes later, an elderly couple thanked her for raking their leaves. Followed by a girl around eight who looked thrilled to have run into her old kindergarten teacher.

Brady sat there and watched, proud to be with her. Impressed by the woman she had become.

Everyone loved Piper. Including him.

           Chapter Thirteen

“I HOPE YOU KNOW WHAT THE HELL YOU’RE DOING,” Shelby told him.

Brady eyed his cousin as they stood in the driveway, leaning on the U-Haul he had rented to drive back to Chicago and pack up his apartment. “I have no idea what I’m doing,” he told her truthfully. “But I haven’t been this happy in I don’t know how long.”

He and Piper had been basically living together in the little blue house for the last two weeks, painting walls, yanking weeds, cooking dinner together, sharing night after night in the little bedroom. She always got up and left and drove back to the farm, but after this weekend, she was moving in for keeps, and Brady felt that, for the first time in his life, he was where he was meant to be.

Shelby sighed. “Just please don’t get her pregnant.”

“What would be the big deal if I did?” he asked defensively. “She’s the best thing that’s ever happened to me. I want to be with her.”

She just shook her head, lips pursed tightly.

“Is this how it’s going to be for the rest of our lives? Everyone always telling Piper she could have done better? Everyone always making me feel bad?” He didn’t want to have this argument repeatedly, and he didn’t want attitude at every family gathering.

“Brady.”

“Don’t Brady me.” He got in the truck. “I’ll see you later.” Annoyed, he slammed the door harder than was necessary. The file he had picked up from Bree with the hospital records on Rachel sat on the passenger seat.

As he drove on 77 North, he realized that the downside to being around people who loved you was that their opinions mattered.

It had been lonely in Chicago but he’d never had to deal with anyone’s criticisms.

He didn’t like it.

* * *

PIPER STOOD IN HER OLD BEDROOM AND RAN HER hand over a butterfly. It was a little faded, maybe slightly dingy, but it was still charming and whimsical, somewhere between cartoon and realism. Closing her eyes, she pictured the way she had looked that day, a grungy ball cap covering her bald head, brand-new sneakers too big on her feet, eyes wide with awe that something so pretty was hers. That this was her room, her very own private space, was almost incomprehensible to her.

Brady had been sporting blue hair and a lip ring at the time. He smelled like cigarette smoke and excessive cologne but that didn’t bother her. Most of the adults in the trailer park had smoked and it was a familiar scent. What wasn’t familiar was the casual kindness he had shown her, the way he had treated her like she was totally normal.

Now, fifteen years later, they were building a home together. The love shack, he called it. It was hard to believe.

Lifting her digital camera, she took several shots of the wall, both from a distance and some close up. These were going to be blown up and framed and hung in the guest room of the blue house, the room she secretly hoped would be a nursery in a couple of years. It was too soon to hope for anything like marriage or children, since Brady hadn’t even told her that he loved her, but he spoke like their future together was a given.

The portrait of her in the living room had been shaded and painted in oils in the weeks since he had first scrounged that pencil out of her purse and started drawing. He had gone back to it again and again, adding to it until she was amazed at the detail he coaxed from his paints. He had also gone out and bought some canvases and paint supplies, and since then he had been painting in the upstairs bedroom. His skill and sudden drive amazed her, especially since he had shrugged and swallowed his pride and gone to Charlotte Murphy-Thornton for a part-time job at her coffee shop. He seemed to enjoy the casual interaction with people and not having to bring his work home with him. Just coffee beans.

Her dreams were coming true. And her nightmares had gone away. There were no sleepless nights, no ghosts. No stepfather shutting her in the closet.

Her phone buzzed, but when she glanced at the screen, it was an unknown number. She’d gotten several calls like that recently and she wondered what telemarketing list she’d wound up on.

Turning, Piper almost ran into her father, who was standing in the doorway, watching her, eyes filled with something she didn’t understand.

“Hey, Daddy.” She smiled, wishing away this sudden distance between them. Did it happen to all women when they fell in love? Did it make all fathers feel like they had been replaced? Her decision to see Brady despite her family’s concerns was the first time she had ever willfully defied him. But this wasn’t skipping school or running off with a criminal. Brady was the right choice for her, and she knew her father would come around when he saw that she was happy.